Black Linings
by thedeadgirlepilogues
Summary: There’s always a silver lining, isn’t that what they say? Well, who are they anyway? What do they know? Who are they to give me advice? It doesn’t matter though, because they’re wrong. Sometimes that lining is black.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_His green eyes, determined and lustful, were set on mine. A chill of ecstasy ran down my spine. He stepped closer and I could smell his sweat. I closed my eyes as I trembled with anticipation and desire. He leaned against me, pushing me against the wall behind me. His chest, so muscular, was moving against mine as we breathed heavily. He breathed my name…_

_ "Draco…" His voice was like silk, lyrical and lost in yearning. I gasped as his soft lips brushed my neck, his black hair tickling my cheek. "Draco…"_

"Draco!" a cold voice penetrated my dreams. Why couldn't he go away? I was having a very nice dream…I rolled over and burrowed my face further into my fluffy pillows.

"Draco! Wake up this instant!" he yelled. Someone shook him violently by the shoulder. "Now!"

Reluctantly (very reluctantly), I opened my groggy eyes and wiped the sleep out of them. I turned my head to see my father standing next to my large bed, holding the curtains back. His face was cold and sharp.

"Yes, father?" I asked. The false respect was apparent in my voice. He noticed.

"Who do you think you are? Don't talk to your father with that tone!" His strong hand came up and swung down, smacking my face hard, surprisingly hard for a man his age. I mean, he's not _old_, but he's definitely over his prime time.

My cheek was smarting rather painfully. I clenched my jaw and muttered an apology through my teeth.

"You better be sorry. You need to learn respect if you want to serve the Dark Lord. Keep this attitude of yours up and you'll be dead before you can think of another smart ass remark." He turned on his heel, dropping my bed curtains, which fell gracefully through the air and hung there like a gentle mist. Beyond, I could still see my father. He was at my door. "Breakfast is ready," he spat before slamming the door shut.

I sat up with a sigh. I climbed out of my bed with a little difficulty, as my foot was wrapped in my sheet. In the mirror, a haunted and pale face looked back at me. I had lost a lot of weight recently. My cheek where my father hit me was red and turning an ugly purple. My thin hand softly brushed it and I stood there, staring at my reflection.

I grabbed my brush and ran it through my white-blonde hair. I stared into my gray eyes. I've been told I was beautiful. I don't know what those people were talking about. I think I'm hideous. Can't they see the shadows behind my eyes, casting an ever-dead look about me? My pale skin was whiter than a corpse. My hair was thin and made me look even paler. Pansy liked my hair. Then again, her hair was as dark as death itself. Comparably, I _was_ beautiful, but she wasn't exactly what one would call an equal opponent.

"She's a perfectly good pureblood," my mother told me every year before I left for school. "Be charming and make sure you'll have a nice pure heir after school, okay? Do it for your mother." She'd kiss my cheek and push me onto the train.

I put my brush down and found my wand. I waved it over my face and cast a glamour, making my face look fuller, healthier. I smirked at myself. This was such a perfect personification of my family: you can be miserable and hate yourself, but make sure you hide it and look good.

Downstairs, the house-elf had prepared a great breakfast. I didn't notice. I sat down at the table across from my mother. She was picking at her fruit bowl.

"Mum." I stared at her blonde head, waiting for her to realize I was there. It usually takes a few minutes, so I grabbed a piece of buttered toast. "Mum, can we go to Diagon Alley?" I bit into the bread. It was delicious. I wonder how that house-elf manages to make even the bread taste amazing.

After I finished two pieces of toast, my mother looked up. "Oh, Draco, dear! I didn't hear you come in," she said with a smile. Always with that poisonous smile.

With dead eyes I continued to munch on my food. "We need to go to Diagon Alley. School starts next week."

"Sure, honey. Do you know where your father went?" She looked around hopefully; she reminded me horribly of a lost puppy.

I stood up. "No." I left the dining room and retreated back to my bedroom. I sat heavily on a lounge chair by one of the windows. I looked outside: the rain clouds were thick with misery, destined to bring doom upon me. I looked away.

Diagon Alley was crowded, as usual, with little children running freely, their parents hopelessly chasing after them, burdened by all of their purchases. I wonder how it would feel to have your mother run after you, desperate to find her mindlessly happy child. I can only dream.

I push my way through a crowd of young girls, probably about to start their first year at Hogwarts by the look of them. When I had gotten through them, I could hear the incessant giggling that pubescent girls were prone to. I rolled my eyes and continued on.

The bank was full of parents and goblins. I scanned the high counters in search of an open teller. When I found one (at the far end of the vast hall), I stalked over and pulled out my key arrogantly, as my father had always told me to do.

"Malfoy vault," I said loudly. The goblin barely looked at me. Whatever. He snatched my key from the polished counter and checked it. Soon, another goblin approached me and showed me into a cart. Once we were both inside, the small cart flew down the tracks, threatening to fall off the edge at any moment. I don't know how long it took, I never pay attention, but I guess it was quite a while since my family vault is at the very bottom of Gringotts, along with all of the other older family vaults.

When the goblin opened the vault, I took a few handfuls of gold, silver, and bronze (and then another handful of gold, for good measure). I passed all of the treasures and jewels and paintings and statues and whatever else we have obtained. I never really cared enough to pay attention to them.

Back in the main street, I walked into various stores, buying the necessities (and my fancies) without much emotion. Quills and ink, parchment, books and broom care equipment. When I walked into Madam Malkin's to buy new robes (I have not only lost weight, but have gained a good deal of height), I stopped suddenly in the doorway.

"Potter," I sneered. Harry Potter twisted his head around, his gorgeous black hair swinging around with the violent motion. His green eyes glared at me. Why do I always do that? Why can't I just be nice to him? He deserves it. Oh well, too late for that. "Buying new robes are you? Probably helping out the Weasleys too, since they can barely pay for their hideous barn they call a house."

Oh, I've hit a nerve. Harry's whole body turned now, his arm whipping out his wand in one fluid movement. Merlin, he's thin. Harry stepped closer to me. Oh, help me! He's beautiful. I begin to smile at him, then, realizing what I was doing, quickly changed it into a smirk.

"Don't you ever talk about them again. They're so much better people, better wizards, than you and you're stuck-up family," Harry spat with so much venom, it slightly stung.

"Oh, that's right! I'm _so_ sorry, Potter. Compared to those Muggles you're related to, the Weasleys are so amazing, you don't even mind the stench they reek of!" Before he could do anything, I sauntered to the rack of robes by the back of the store.

"Draco, dear, where were you?" my mother asked in her annoyingly sugary voice. Before I could answer (sometimes I like to pretend she actually cares when she asks me that), she asked, "Did you see Pansy? She was over by the Apothecary with some friends. Give me those" –she took my purchases—"and why don't you go talk to her?" She pushed me in the general direction of the Apothecary with her red tipped talons.

Sighing, I walked down the street pushing people out of my way as I did. I did not go to the Apothecary. I passed right by. Pansy Parkinson was indeed by the door, carrying bags of bat eyes, scorpion tails, and other animal guts in her hand. She tried to get my attention by calling out my name and leaning seductively (I think that's what she was trying to do) against the doorframe. I paid her no attention.

Instead, I walked down to Knockturn Alley. If I were somebody else, the shady characters that crowded this side street probably would have cornered me. But no, they knew my father, that great, fabulous, rich, handsome, cunning bastard.

I opened the door to Tilly's Tea Leaves. The store was dark and dusty. Scattered around the room were small tables draped in black velvet, mesh, and lace, each with a silver candelabra. On the side wall, there were tall black iron and glass display cases. There were a few customers sipping tea and other drinks that I'd care not to know the contents of. Others were scanning the shelves for fortune telling products.

"Tilly!" I yelled, slamming the door behind me. Several people looked up at me, none of them Tilly. "Tilly, where are you?" I stood in the doorway, waiting.

A thin woman walked out from the backroom. Her dark hair was pulled back into two messy ponytails and her eyes were hidden in shadow from her long bangs and makeup. She smiled widely and her red lips gave way to white teeth.

"Draco, I wasn't expecting you today," she said, looking me up and down.

"Apparently." I walked past her and sat down at a table in the corner of the shop. The cold iron chair chilled my back as I leaned against it, but I ignored it and stared at Tilly, waiting for her to follow suit and sit.

Tilly walked over and sat, the many folds of her dark skirt falling over the edge of the chair. Her eyes probed mine, her brows furrowed.

"I need your help," I whispered. I stared at her more, urging her to get the message, hoping she could read my mind with her powerful gaze.

"You'll need to be more specific, Draco," she said leaning across the table to be closer. Her chest was about to fall out of her black lace corset, her silver necklace dangling above her cleavage. I showed no interest.

"He has given me a mission and I need your help. You have the supplies I need to succeed." I watched Tilly for a reaction. Her face didn't change. We sat frozen for a few pregnant seconds before she swiftly stood up, beckoned me to follow, and walked to the backroom, her skirts swishing on the ground, picking up dirt and dust.

I closed the heavy door behind me and turned to Tilly, who was bathed in the half-light of her various candles scattered around the room. There was another silence between us, only interrupted by the crackling of the small flames. Her gaze was intense.

"Draco, what do you need? What did he tell you to do?" she whispered. Her voice was soft yet husky, laced with concern and eagerness.

"To give him Harry Potter," I whispered. Tilly gasped. I could feel a lump in my throat, choking me, causing me to cough out a strangled sob. I closed my eyes in embarrassment and horror at the prospect of handing him over to Voldemort, to Death.

I felt Tilly's comforting arms wrap around my trembling body and I buried my face in her shoulder. Against my will, tears rolled down my face. Tilly let me cry for a while before pulling back, holding me by the shoulders. Her eyes, now moist, searched mine, for what I don't know.

"You can do it, Draco. I know it's hard, but it's your head or his," Tilly encouraged. I think she tried to make me feel better. She failed. I pulled away violently and sobbed loudly. I fell to my knees and covered my face with my shaking hands.

"No, I can't! Don't you understand? If I could, I would die for him! I…I love him, Tilly…" I whispered. We both knew this to be true for a while, but I have never, _never _uttered those words.

Tilly was silent for several minutes while I cried myself into silence. When my tears had stopped, we sat in the gloomy backroom of her shop for an hour, both wondering what the future would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

As the Hogwarts Express rattled its way to school, I sat by the window, glaring at the flashing scenery. The sun was hiding behind the angry clouds; rain was smacking the windows, running down them like tears. The skies reflected my mood perfectly.

I stood up abruptly. My company was aggravatingly quiet. Crabbe was reading another one of his retched comics (it's comprised mostly of pictures; I'm not sure he can even read). Goyle was snoring loudly, his bulky mass leaning onto his thin girlfriend, who looked as if she were suffocating. Pansy, too, was snoozing, her dark head resting on my shoulder. When I rose, she fell onto my seat and looked at me, affronted.

Without answering her quizzical looks, I left. Stalking down the corridors of the train, pushing puny first years out of my way, I made my way to _his _carriage. I turned and threw the door open when I found it. He looked up at me, alarmed by the noise I had made. When his eyes locked on mine (my heart melted in his green gaze), he leaned back as if he were bored.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Where's your cronies? Finally big enough to walk around without bodyguards now, are you?" Harry sneered. The blood traitor, Weasley, laughed loudly. I glared at him until he quieted. The bushy-haired Mudblood was sitting under her usual pile of textbooks, looking on with a worried expression.

"I need a word," I announced, stepping forward into the compartment and looking at him down my nose. I kept my mouth set straight, refusing to smile at his beauty. It was a hard struggle. All three of them were silent, exchanging looks of curiosity and warning.

I expected him to laugh, to push me out, to snarl back an insult, so I was surprised (as well as absurdly nervous and happy) when he stood. His muscles rippled in his arms as he pushed himself up. Oh, _Merlin_! My heart raced and I'm sure he could hear it. I took a breath and urged myself to calm down.

With a quick look back at his friends, he followed me out of the compartment. I led the way down the cramped hall, glancing in each compartment in search of an empty one. Inside, my heart was frantically beating; Harry was right behind me, so close. I heard his feet hit the ground with each step, reassuring me that he was still there…he was still there…

Finally, I found an empty compartment. I slid the door open and walked inside. He stepped in after me and I closed the door. With a deep breath I turned to look at him. Only in my wonderful fantasies have I been here before. He stared at me with blunt curiosity. His beautiful green eyes kept glancing at the door every few seconds, probably wondering if he could escape…but he followed me…he was still there.

"Potter," I started, my usual sneering drawl spitting the name out like poison, defiling him. "I—" I couldn't continue; the words were stuck in my throat. I stared at him with my mouth half-open.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his curious face morphing into one of amusement. "Yes, Malfoy?" His tone suggested he found my frozen state quite humorous. I scowled.

"Watch your back," I hissed. I slammed the door open and started to march back to my compartment when a hand firmly gripped my shoulder. I spun around and was face-to-face with Harry Potter. His breath was on my face…he blinked, his long lashes brushing his cheek…his lips were mere centimeters from mine…_no!_ I violently yanked my arm out of his grasp, brows furrowed and mouth glowering. "_What_, Potter?"

For a few seconds, he didn't even say anything. He stared at me, looking like a bloody idiot (as I must have back in the compartment…). When he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. "Tell me what you know."

I blinked, confusion biting back one of my always-ready insults. "About what?" my voice was soft, inquiring. Instantly, I glared at him, hoping to cover up my slip. I can't show any weaknesses; I am a Malfoy—a wretched Malfoy—and we are not weak.

Yeah, right.

"Who's going to die?" Harry whispered, emotion coloring his words, his eyes intense. He said this as if he expected death, knew this would happen. I felt like I melted into a puddle. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him that _he_ was going to die, that _I _would be the one to deliver him to his death.

Instead, I fell back onto what I know best. I sneered. "Why, Potter, would I ever tell _you_ what I know? You think that just because you're the famous, bloody Harry Potter, you are entitled to whatever you want? Well, think again." I stormed away. He didn't try to stop me, but the look on his face made me want to run back, to hold him, to apologize over and over, and take back everything I said…to kiss him and wipe away the tears that are always hiding behind his green eyes.

But I didn't. I sat back down next to Pansy Parkinson and resigned myself to glaring at clouds once more.

"Back at Hogwarts for yet another year of boring lessons and annoying first-years," I lazily announced over breakfast the morning after we arrived. I stabbed my sausage with my fork. Pansy laughed and playfully smacked my arm. Her childish attempts are worthless; she is as attractive to me as Weasley's mother. "What do we have first period?"

"Potions," she said, smiling, glad that I was showing her attention. She batted her eyelashes at me, which were not nearly as long or graceful as Potter's were…I stood up quickly, knocking the bench back and Pansy held onto the table for support. "Draco! Where are you going?" Pansy squealed as I strode away.

With a huge sigh of relief (Pansy is quite irksome and parasitic; I can never seem to be free of her), I reached the Entrance Hall. It was too early to head to class so I decided to go to the library. Just because I'm not a filthy Ravenclaw doesn't mean I'm stupid or anything.

I took a few shortcuts and made my way into the library. As I walked, my thoughts wandered aimlessly, eventually, and quite quickly, ending with Potter as usual. How was I supposed to kill him? He's the sweetest person; all he did was survive a curse to the head. Did he really deserve to be murdered?

Madam Pince's beady eyes followed me from the moment I stepped into the library. I looked at her scornfully, hoping to make her stop…it didn't work. I walked to the back of the large hall and sat at the corner table, hidden from the librarian's view behind the rows of books.

I pulled a piece of parchment out of my bag. The paper was folded many times and looked abused. I've read it so many times before that it left its mark. I unfolded it and stared sadly at my aunt's ironically neat script.

_Draco,_

_You have been personally chosen by the Dark Lord to do the greatest task any devoted follower could dream of. You are a Malfoy, a Black. You have the purest blood running through your veins. You have the power and ability to fulfill the Dark Lord's request. I know you can and I know you will. Do it and don't get caught. Don't let me, your parents, or the Dark Lord down. Terrible things will happen to you if you do…_

_ Aunt Bellatrix_

I read the note and reread it, letting the inspiring words to flood me with confidence. I closed my eyes and imagined me killing Potter, finally succeeding the greatest accomplishment of the Cause.

"Malfoy," a voice suddenly but quietly called, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked up into the greenest eyes I've ever seen, the same ones that have plagued my dreams for months.

"Potter," I retorted cooly, concealing my thoughts with expertise. My heart twinged painfully at the slight frown that formed on his beautiful lips.

He stared me directly in my eyes; I felt violated, like he was digging into my soul with his eyes. "You never answered my question." He stood in front of me, waiting for me to talk. I could feel his body tense and his anxiety building. I smirked.

"I believe I did, Potter. I recall mentioning something about shrinking that head of yours." I stood up, my face inches from his yet again. My eyes narrowed as I breathed my next words in his face, "It's none of your bloody business, and you'd be wise to nose out."

Harry didn't flinch; he whispered back, his breath tickling my face, "If someone dies, you'll be next." He walked away, leaving me rooted to the spot. His scent still lingered: sweat, rain, and grass, mixed addictively together.


End file.
